


these things get louder

by jaekyu



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:00:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8668543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaekyu/pseuds/jaekyu
Summary: Sungjin teaches a kindergarten class and he loves his kids. His kids love their new music teacher. Sungjin's about to discover his own feelings about him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> missed ya day6 fandom. 110% blaming this on chloe but tash is a filthy enabler. 
> 
> mention of learning disablities ahead (specifically two of sungjin's students) so if that's a problem for you no sweat. feel free to skip this one and/or tread carefully.

Sungjin loves being a teacher. And, honestly, he’d say he’s pretty good at being one too.

His kids like him. Okay, no, they _love_ him and he loves them right back. They might not be the best at understanding character as a bunch of six year olds, but they’re judgement of people is always completely honest, Sungjin has noticed, and they love him. 

They might love Dowoon a little more, though. Dowoon is Sungjin’s teaching assistant, halfway through teacher’s college, and he doesn’t have to be even half of the disciplinary Sungjin has to be. Sungjin’s got a good group of kids, obviously, but they’re just that - kids. Kids that Sungjin has to mold into well-behaved slaves to the education system, which they’ll be trapped in for as far into the future as they can properly comprehend. 

He’s quoting Brian here, to be clear, and Brian may have become a little more jaded since he got saddled with a sixth grade class of, honestly, and Sungjin never said this, but little assholes. 

Point is: Sungjin’s kids love him the most when he hands out candy at the end of a day where they’ve been particularly good and they love Sungjin the least when they’ve started to get a bit rowdy and he’s, in the most evil of punishments, forced them all to sit quietly and colour by themselves.

In contrast, they always love Dowoon. Dowoon, who is basically a big kid himself, and always indulges when someone paws at him with sticky hands and asks him to colour with them. Dowoon, who will always join in a game of hide and seek, or duck duck goose. Dowoon, who despite the hardness of his muscular arms and toned body is nothing but softness on the inside.

The kids had been a little scared of him, at first, mostly because of the deep tone of his voice. But they warmed up to him without much troublex Before long they were going to Dowoon to help wash their hands free of glue as much as they were Sungjin.

Sungjin gets it, though, because he loves Dowoon too. In a less straight-forward way he’s almost one of Sungjin’s kids, only a little more independent and a little less whiny. He’ll make a good teacher of his own one day, maybe a little too soft the first couple of years.

Sungjin’s kids also seem to really love their new music teacher, which they finally have after a decent increase to arts budget this year. They go see him for an hour twice a week and they always come back buzzing with renewed energy, full of smiles and stories for Sungjin. Sungjin hasn’t had the chance to talk to the music teacher yet, Dowoon usually the one he sends navigating the halls with his kids, who walk single file with fingers over their mouths to make sure they’re quiet, but Sungjin trusts his kids.

He’s sure the new music teacher is as great as they tell him.

 

#

 

Yeah, the new music teacher is great. Fantastic, Sungjin is sure, amazing, revolutionary. He gets it. One thing his kids never mentioned is that the new music teacher is - well, shit, he’s cute. 

The music teacher - Mr. Jae is what he told the students to call him - wears glasses and Chuck Taylor’s, and he is tall and thin in a way that is not athletic. He looks wiry, even more so in the jeans and too big cable knit sweater that he’s wearing when Sungjin first meets him. He looks like he’s never left college, and maybe acts like it a little bit, and maybe that’s part way what makes him such a good teacher.

“You teach the kindergarten class, right?” he asks Sungjin, flicking his bangs out of his eyes. His hair is long and unstyled. Sungjin nods. “I love those little babies,” he tells Sungjin. His smile is so genuine it makes Sungjin’s hearts swell with pride. He loves those little babies too.

“Sungjin,” he introduces himself, hand outstretched. 

“Jae,” the music teacher replies, even though Sungjin already knew, because his kid’s always have so much to say about their new music teacher. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

The genuine smile doesn’t disappear or even falter and shit. Sungjin is acutely aware suddenly of how long it’s been since he dated someone, or even wanted to pursue something romantic.

He doesn’t think it’s a coincidence that now is the time those thoughts return to the forefront of his mind. But shit, again, shit - that’s kind of weird and out of nowhere and crazy and - 

Shit. Jae is really cute.

And okay, maybe that’s not really his kids fault for not telling him. They don’t really have a grasp on the idea of attraction yet, beyond Kim Suhyun and all Kim Suhyun understands is telling everyone Dowoon is going to be her boyfriend when she gets older and trailing him like a bear to honey, seeking his approval for every sloppily cut construction paper heart and artistically oddly coloured drawing of a butterfly.

So, it’s unfair to have expected a warning from his kids. Dowoon may be a snake and a bad influence, though. 

(“You’re crushing on the music teacher?” Dowoon will ask incredulously, when Sungjin finally lets it slip after a long evening staying after school for a meeting. Then, to himself, Dowoon will say, “so that’s your type.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sungjin will counter, eyebrow raised, pen lifting off his piece of paper. 

Dowoon will wave a hand in front of his face, a mock gesture to indicate features. “Glasses, floppy hair, Chicken Little face.” 

“My type is not Chicken Little face.”)

 

#

 

Sungjin is not in the teacher’s lounge five minutes before Ayeon is saying, “I heard about your crush on the music teacher.” 

Sungjin stills mid pour of his second coffee of the day. Dowoon is a traitor, a filthy traitor who probably told Ayeon’s teaching assistant Mina and then Mina told Ayeon. Dowoon can not be trusted with secrets, apparently, and Sungjin will remember that. 

Sungjin turns on his heels, trying to force faux ease into his limbs and face. Ayeon’s looking at him so smug, ripping off pieces of bagel with a thumb and finger and popping them into her mouth. “Who?” Sungjin says and his voice cracks. 

Ayeon laughs like he’s told the funniest joke in the world, coughing around trying to swallow her food and almost doubling over. “Oh my god,” she says, “you’re so pure, have you ever told a lie a day in your life? One of your kids caught with their hand in the cookie jar could be more convincing than you.”

 

#

 

Sungjin doesn’t hate parent teacher night - but he knows a lot of teachers who do. He caught Brian in the hall earlier and he had said, “I need to tell six parents tonight that their kids failed their English test. Guess who they’re gonna blame?” 

“You,” Sungjin answers. He smiles placatingly, squeezing Brian’s shoulders. 

“Me. Somehow it’s always my fault,” Brian throws his hands up, “when will parents consider that their kids might just be fucking stupid.” 

Obviously, parent teacher night isn’t a breeze for everybody. All Sungjin really needs to do is to fill parents in on their kids progress - basic math, alphabet, colours, all that stuff - and it’s never really on him or the kids if they're not catching on as quick. Kindergarteners have those spongy, malleable brains, and it’s easy to train them into things, but that kind of stuff always happens at it’s own pace. Then he gives the parents their kids art folder, wishes them goodnight, and that’s it.

If he had worse behaved kids it might be more of a headache. But he doesn’t, so Sungjin is pretty relaxed for parent teacher night.

Dowoon? Less so. 

“Oh my god, what do I say?” He asks. He keeps fiddling with the tie around his neck, loosening it and tightening it and loosening it again. Dowoon’s wearing a blazer tonight, too, which he never does. He keeps wiping his sweating palms on his pants.

Sungjin shakes his head, “introduce yourself, explain why you’re here - not here, right now, they know that. Why you’re in my class.” Sungjin explains for the umpteenth time, “and then you literally don’t have to say anything else. Just sit there and don’t vomit on yourself, or piss your pants.”

“Oh my god,” Dowoon repeats, mostly to himself, eyes wide. 

“It’s a handful of mostly young parents,” Sungjin reassures, “they’re not going to eat you.”

 

#

 

Sungjin’s right, of course, and no one eats Dowoon. No one even tries to bite him. 

Truth be told, once he introduces himself, they kind of stop paying attention to him. Parents usually come into this thing single-minded or too bored to pay proper attention anyway.

Sungjin checks his watch. It’s nearly 8PM, they should be finishing up soon. Next he checks his list, of which he’s been steadily checking off names as parents show up.

“We’ve got one left,” Sungjin tells Dowoon, leaning back in his chair. “Kim Suhyun’s older brother should be here soon.”

“Oh god, are you gonna make me tell him she wants me to be her boyfriend?” Dowoon wails, for a moment, before he mulls over Sungjin’s words a little more and realizes. “Wait, her brother?”

Sungjin nods, “yeah, I’m not - I’m not sure of the whole situation with her parents, because he’s not her legal guardian or anything. Yet, I guess, I don’t know,” Dowoon listens with rapt attention, blinking slowly, “but he comes to all the school stuff. Parent teacher, school shows, field trips, sometimes. I think he was even the one who came in and signed her up for kindergarten.” 

“You’ve never met her parents?” Dowoon asks. 

“Not even once,” Sungjin replies, shaking his head, “I talked to her pre-k teacher too and she’s never met them either.” 

Dowoon runs a hand through his hair, through his bangs all the way to the back of his neck, “shit,” he mutters under his breath

Yeah, I know, Sungjin thinks but doesn’t say. He thinks Dowoon knows regardless.

 

#

 

Five past 8PM and still no sign of Suhyun’s older brother, but who else pokes her face through Sungjin’s open classroom door but Ayeon.

“Hey,” she says, waving, “a bunch of us are gonna go to that new cafe bar that just opened? The hip one that looks like a log cabin? Way pretentious, definitely our scene. You guys wanna come?”

“I’m gonna hang around for a bit to see if my last parent shows up,” Sungjin replies, “but I’ll meet you there?” 

Ayeon nods, “you wanna come too, Dowoonie?” 

“I’m kind of exhausted from seizing up in panic all night,” Dowoon shrugs, “I’ll probably just finish up with Sungjin and head home and pass out.”

“Suit yourself,” Ayeon replies and then she’s gone, calling, “see you there, Sungjin!” behind her.

There’s a flurry of noise from the hallway, then, and a flurry of movement into Sungjin’s classroom, until what must be Kim Suhyun’s older brother is standing in front of Sungjin’s desk, hand outstretched while he tries to catch his breath.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says first, then, “I’m, uh, Wonpil? Suhyun’s older brother.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Sungjin smiles, shaking Wonpil’s hand, “and it’s fine, you didn’t keep us too long. This is my teaching assistant, Dowoon,”

Sungjin gestures beside him, which has been Dowoon’s cue all night that it’s his turn to talk. But he doesn’t, there’s just silence, and Sungjin turns to look at Dowoon to find him dumbstruck staring at Suhyun’s brother, eyes wide like saucers and mouth downturned into a small frown. 

“Um, hi?” Wonpil offers weakly.

Sungjin elbows Dowoon in the ribs. It seems to reboot the system and Dowoon shoves his hand out towards Wonpil, tripping over his introduction he’s trying too fast to get out.

Then he blushes, laughs softly. Sungjin blinks, brain clicking things into place. 

Oh, Sungjin’s not letting Dowoon forget this one.

 

#

 

Petit Cafe Biere is not run by a frenchman but is has french name. Because that’s trendy, Sungjin guesses, and this whole place reeks of trendiness.

It serves three beers on tap and every other thing on the menu is a coffee-based drink with alcohol in it. All the food is bakery inspired. Most of the walls are designed to look like a worn log cabin, except for a single wall of exposed brick, which has a small stage set up in front of it. Sometimes dudes with acoustic guitars will play there, thinking their the next big thing with a beard and a guitar when that’s half of the music getting made these days. 

Sungjin doesn’t hate it here, even though it sounds like it. A lot of it just feels disingenuous. Him and the other teachers like to come here, though. Ironically. 

Sungjin finds his party pretty centre dining room, chatting over three tables pushed together. A lot of them are drinking beer, a few of them sip mugs of something warm. Someone’s ordered a cheese plate. Sungjin rolls his eyes.

He finds a seat across from Brian, who sits next to Ayeon. And - about that. Sungjin doesn’t pry, it’s not in his nature, but those two have been dancing around something or dancing around telling everybody about something for awhile. It’s like everytime Sungjin turns a corner they’re standing next to each other talking, and everytime he goes into one of their classrooms after hours to talk the other one is already there. They never look caught, or suspicious, and maybe that’s because nothing is going on (yet) or maybe it’s because they’ve just got good at keeping it quiet.

“Dowoon is going to break his girlfriend's heart,” Sungjin says, shrugging off his coat to hang it off the back of his chair.

Ayeon’s brow furrows as she leans a little further over the table. “Dowoon does not have a girlfriend,” she says, “he’s a pup.”

“Not an actual girlfriend,” Brian explains to her, “one of Sungjin’s kids is convinced she’s going to marry Dowoon when she’s older. Which to her means like, fourth grade.” 

“Imagine how awkward it’s going to be for him to explain to her that they need to break up so he can date her brother,” Sungjin’s voice is sly. Brian chokes on his mouthful of beer, Ayeon’s eyebrows disappear behind her bangs. He laughs. 

The night goes on. Sungjin feels the week’s worth of stress roll off his back. He’s been prepping for parent teacher night all week, along with planning lessons and trying to help Dowoon plan his own lessons, and it’s nice to be done with it and unwind. Roll his shoulders back, have drinks with his friends, laugh. He’ll have to start work on report cards soon, but for now that’s a few weeks off, and he’s not going to think about it.

 

#

 

All that stuff before about the generic dudes with the guitars and the beards? Sungjin’s going to have to take that back. Guess who’s right on stage in front of him? Jae, cutie music teacher, all floppy haired as usual, wearing his glasses and tuning a guitar.

Ayeon’s looking at Sungjin with a kind of ominous glee that makes Sungjin think she knew this was going to happen, Brian sitting beside her puzzled at this whole thing.

If Sungjin has one real friends in this world, it must be Brian. He’ll make it a point to listen to Brian more carefully now when he rags on about his students. 

Jae’s wearing a black jacket over a light blue button down, dark washed jeans with rips in the knees. He’s got a stool to sit on and he’s adjusting the mic, playing with the height.

“Check, check,” he says into it once he’s satisfied, “hey everyone.”

And then he smiles out into the crowd and Sungjin almost runs out the front door without his jacket or paying his bill he’s so caught of guard. 

He doesn’t, obviously, and in hindsight he’s glad he didn’t. Jae plays a nice, light song that compliments his nice, light voice and the atmosphere of this place. Sungjin grips the fabric of his pants. This is awful but also fantastic and it’s all very confusing and just making Sungjin feels more nervous.

Before his last song, Jae really has to put a nail in Sungjin’s coffin, and he says, “I teach music in an elementary school,” Sungjin’s table cheers, Sungjin sinks into his seat, “and I played this song for some of my students the other day. They really liked it.”

Sungjin considers hiding under the table. 

He considers it even more thoroughly when Jae finishes up and bee-lines for their table. Before Sungjin can even blink Ayeon’s taking a chair from an empty table next to them for Jae, sliding it right next to Sungjin.

“Hey,” Sungjin’s mouth moves seemingly of it’s own will, “that was cool.”

Jae smiles, “nah man,” he says, “you’re cool,” and then he shoves his shoulder into Sungjin’s playfully.

Brian and Ayeon have uninvolved themselves from the situation, so it’s just Jae and Sungjin talking, but Ayeon keeps looking smug at Sungjin over the lip of her glass every time she takes a sip.

“I’m not cool,” Sungjin scoffs, “not even close. You’re much cooler. If we polled my class I think they’d agree.” 

“Unlikely. They think the sun shines out of your ass,” Jae wipes his mouth dry after a sip from his beer. Sungjin’s sort of taken aback by the statement. He knew his kids liked him, but the fact that they like so much that other people notice - it kind of makes Sungjin’s heart swell. “Also, I’m sure you’re super cool. I bet you could name one cool thing you’ve done in your life.”

Sungjin considers for a moment. He’s not sure what the proper measurements for cool are, less so in the context of telling it to Jae. He decides on something that would be common ground between the two of them.

“I used to be in a band,” Sungjin shares, swallowing down a foamy mouthful of a fresh glass of beer. “Back in high school.”

“With me,” Brian pipes up from the other side of the table.

“Hey, that’s cool,” Jae gives Sungjin’s shoulder another playful shove, “what did you play?”

“Guitar,” Sungjin replies and then, a little more shyly, “and I sang a bit too.”

Jae smiles brightly at him. If Sungjin grips his glass a little tighter it’s only because the condensation was making it start to slip from his grasp. He swears. 

“You ever play for your kids?” Jae asks.

Sungjin shakes his head. “No, I’m really rusty,” he explains, “and it’s hard enough to be taken seriously as a teacher when you’re younger. I don’t think bringing a guitar to class like a new age hippie would help my case.” 

Jae laughs. “Come with your kids to my class sometime,” he offers, “I’ll provide the guitar. I’m sure they’d love to hear you play.”

Sungjin doesn’t reply, just smiles weakly in thanks. He turns back to his beer, after that, determined not to think too hard about his kids - and Jae - hearing him play after he hasn’t in such a long time.

 

#

 

On Monday, after Sungjin sends his kids off to music class with Dowoon, he tries to busy himself with putting stickers on the drawings his kids did of their families. It works, for about five minutes at a time until inevitably, Sungjin goes back to thinking about Jae’s offer.

He unconsciously keeps track of the time. Jae has Sungjin’s class for another ten minutes. If he went in now he’s unlikely to be interrupting any lesson and then he could just take his kids back with him after he -

“Sungjin?” Dowoon’s voice snaps Sungjin out of his thoughts. Dowoon’s sat at his desk, smaller that Sungjin’s and angled against it so the two of them make an L shape. He’s drafting a lesson plan for math that Sungjin wants him to take care of teaching. “Did you hear me just now?”

Sungjin fold, caught. “Honestly, no,” he admits.

Dowoon sighs, but it’s playful, accompanied by a shake of his head. “I asked if you want me to go grab the kids from music class?" 

Sungjin’s eyes dart to the clock. Shit. They’re finishing up in five minutes. Looks like it’s now or never.

“Um,” Sungjin stumbles, “no! It’s okay, um. I’ll go get them. Finish that lesson plan.”

Dowoon looks suspicious, unconvinced by Sungjin’s words. Sungjin doesn’t blame him, honestly, it’s not very often that Sungjin to grab his class from across the school. It’s one of the first perks Sungjin bragged about when they offered him a teaching assistant, they he wouldn’t have to anymore.

Sungjin is sure Dowoon wants to ask him a few questions, which is precisely why Sungjin ducks out of his classroom before Dowoon can.

 

#

 

The noise from behind the door to Jae’s classroom is loud and pure chaos. They’ve put the music room in a more isolated corner of the school and this would make sense as to why.

Sungjin doesn’t think anyone would hear him if he knocked, so he slowly opens the door and peeks inside. Jae is sat crossed legged on his deck with a guitar on his lap, picking the strings. A few kids gather around him in a semi-circle, listening, while others are strewn around the classroom with various other instruments, making all kinds of noise.

One of Sungjin’s student with a stick to play a xylophone notices him and points him out, and suddenly he’s swarmed by a bunch of his kids who want to show off what they can play. Jae rescues Sungjin, eventually, shooing the kids away to practice more, and then it’s just the two of them standing near the door.

“I swear it’s usually more organized than this,” Jae says, “I just kind of let them go crazy near the end.”

“It’s fine,” Sungjin replies, eyeing the guitar that Jae is clutching via the neck. 

Jae offers it to him without prompting. “You wanna play?” he asks. Jae’s expression never falters from a smile of quiet encouragement, without the pressure of overexcitement. Sungjin could write a book on all the qualities that make Jae a good teacher at this point.

Sungjin takes the guitar, positions the shoulder strap over his head and comfortablt across his chest. He strums and the chord thrums through his fingers and his palm and his body and all the less physical parts that make him up. 

Suhyun notices first and after that it doesn’t take long for the whole class to have quieted, a simultaneously breath held as they wait for Sungjin to move. He strums again, again, until it’s morphing into an old song he thought he long forgot but he never did. A kind of song that etches itself into your life, an end theme or an opening theme or a rising plateau.

His kids are quiet the whole time, frozen in quiet awe, and when Sungjin finishes and gives a small laugh, they erupt into excitement once again.

Jae is looking at Sungjin, mouth a little slack like he’s trying to catch flies and eyes a little wider than usual. Or maybe his eyes haven’t changed at all and Sungjin has just never noticed behind the glare of Jae’s glasses.

“That bad?” Sungjin asks, folding a little into himself with embarrassment. He lifts the shoulder strap over his head and hands the guitar back to Jae.

“No, dude,” Jae disagrees, shake of his head vehement, “that was good. You’re really good.”

 

#

 

“So,” Dowoon whispers, leaning close to Sungjin to speak. Sungjin’s kids are spread around the two rugs in the room, pillows and blankets and pretending to sleep during nap time. Sungjin doesn’t care, as long as they’re quiet and calm. “You impress the music teacher?”

Sungjin feels heat creep into it, before he staves it off and turns from his pile of drawings of vegetables to look at Dowoon. “I don’t know,” he shrugs, “you tell Suhyun you wanna take her brother to the park to go down the slides and hold hands?”

Dowoon’s mouth drops open with shock. Then it shuts with a click of teeth and Dowoon spends the rest of nap time finishing his lesson plans.

 

#

 

The week passes like any other, lack of excitement and the mundanity of a school day. His kids go back to music class two days later. Sungjin does not find the courage to follow them.

Him and Jae are - he’s not sure how to put it. They talk, and someone’s time they flirt, and a few times Jae has offered Sungjin the other half of his sandwich over lunch, or bought him coffee, and Sungjin has responded by offering similar, small things.

On some level, Sungjin understands this is how it works. Plant seeds, water and sunlight, and then whatever you’re trying to grow will push it’s way out of the dirt in slow tendrils reaching towards something above. He’s taught his kids all about this.

But Sungjin finds he lacks patience and everytime Jae smiles at him in the hallway and adjusts his glasses Sungjin can feel his window of opportunity shrinking and shrinking.

Sungjin throws himself into his work. Report cards go out soon.

 

#

 

On Friday, late afternoon, after nap time, Sungjin sits his kids down with a basic picture book and has Dowoon go around and ask them about what they’re reading.

“Sungjin,” Dowoon calls for him quietly. Sungjin gives him a nod of the head to continue. “Haejin’s having some trouble.”

Sungjin furrows his brow. Haejin is usual a pretty independent student. Dowoon’s right, though, since they’ve picked up reading more Haejin’s been falling away.

“Send him to me,” he tells Dowoon, who nods and returns to the little boy.

Haejin is small for his age and he is not shy so much as he is obedient. A kid who only talks when he has something to say. Which is interesting to see from a six year old - but Sungjin has learned to not underestimate the quiet intelligence of a child.

“Haejin,” he says softly, gesturing the boy closer, “Dowoon said you’re having trouble?”

Haejin nods without speaking, clutching the book in his tiny fists to his chest. He sniffs.

“Do you want to try and read with me?” Sungjin offers. Haejin nods again, opening his book on Sungjin’s desk. Sungjin reads to him aloud for a few pages before, posing Haejin the occasional questions to make sure he understands. Finally, he asks, “can you try the next one, Haejin?" 

Haejin looks almost scared, eyes darting from Sungjin to the book. Sungjin smiles at Haejin encouragingly, watching the boy rub at his nose. 

“Uh,” Haejin starts and he reads two words before he stumbles and stops. Sungjin frowns. Haejin’s not squinting, or given any hints that it’s an issue. And Haejin knows these words, Sungjin knows he does. And then, Haejin says, “I’m sorry, Mr. Sungjin, but - the words, they don’t make sense?”

Sungjin’s heart sinks. He’s not a professional, and Haejin will meet a lot of those if Sungjin’s suspicion is correct, but he knows the signs. He’s familiar with them.

He can guess that some day soon, after a handful of specialist and Haejin feeling like he’s been looked at through a microscope, they’ll tell this poor, sweet kid -

They’ll tell him and his parents he has dyslexia.

 

#

 

When Sungjin was barely out of teacher’s college, still unconvinced of the merits of teaching, he had a tiny doll of a girl in his first grade class.

She had been the picture of a perfect child: well-behaved, smart, inquisitive and curious in the right ways. Sungjin loved her the way he loves every one of those babies who comes through his classroom door.

Only one day, this little girl wasn’t doing as well as she normally would. And it was so out of character it made Sungjin so scared. He was a new teacher and he had no experience, so he went to a coworker with it.

“Oh,” the other teacher had said, sip of her coffee swallowed, “you should tell her parents to take her to a doctor. I think - I mean, my best guess would be she has a learning disability.”

Sungjin was informed a month and a half later she been formally diagnosed, and he may need to spend special time with her.

Sungjin has never seen a child deflate so fast in his life. It was like a pin in a balloon and suddenly a girl so bright and light was weighed down so dark and heavy. On a partcularly frustrating day she had cried into Sungiin’s shoulder, muttering about it being her fault and saying she was sorry.

Sungjin had told her to stop apologizing if she didn’t do anything wrong. He wondered who could tell such a little happy girl that somehow she wasn’t good enough because she was different, and just watched her try to wrap her head around yet another thing she couldn’t stand. 

Sungjin hugged her tight on the last day of school. She wasn’t at his school the next year. Sungjin hopes she had teachers who made her believe in her own worth after him.

Otherwise - he doesn’t know. And that scares him.

 

#

 

Haejin weighs heavy on Sungjin’s mind, even after he’s had everyone of his kids replace their books onto their shelves and head outside with Dowoon.

Sungjin feels worn down to the bone, today’s been such a long a day. He’s so looking forward to going home, neglecting all his lesson planning until Sunday, ordering in food and indulging himself in all ways.

Before that, of course, it the grand practical joke of the universe, his day is going to get worse.

Suhyun falls off the playground at recess, smashes her face into the side of one of the hard plastic slides, and slices her lip and the bridge of her nose wide open. Dowoon brings her in scooped up tight in his arms, big crocodile tears mixing with the blood all over his face. Sungjin can only imagine the state of his kids outside right now, probably all scared at the sight of their friend so visibly hurt.

Sungjin’s been trained for this, he’s supposed to know how to handle these situations. He’s responsible for a horde of six year olds, who aren’t exactly the least prone to accidents. Sungjin’s brain is so fried and he’s so frustrated and tired, though, that he kind of just wants to give up and start wailing along with Suhyun.

But he’s a good teacher, and he loves Suhyun and hates seeing her cry so he takes her from Dowoon’s and hugs her to him tight, blood and tears smearing all over the shoulder of his shirt.

“Go get the nurse,” he tells Dowoon, rubbing Suhyun’s back in small circles to quiet her. “And call Wonpil, ask him come pick her up.”

Dowoon nods. Suhyun has stopped crying knowing, just pitifully hiccuping into Sungjin’s shoulder. Dowoon gives her shoulder a small squeeze before he speeds off to find the school nurse. 

Sungjin places Suhyun gently on the edge of his desk to examine her. She looks a mess, face seemingly a gore fingerpainting of blood with tears streaked through it. Her nose has slowed it’s bleeding now, but Suhyun’s lip is still leaking it slow but steady, smearing red across her chin and throat. 

“Are you okay?” Is the first thing Sungjin asks. “You’re allowed to tell me if you’re not okay.”

Suhyun blinks up at him, big eyes still wet with tears, but she nods. “I’m okay,” she insists with a sniffle.

Sungjin smiles softly. “You’re really brave, Suhyun,” he tells her. Sungjin pulls the first aid kit out from the last drawer of his desk, finds the alcohol lingettes inside, and rips one open. “Let’s clean you up a bit, okay?”

The school nurse helps Suhyun as best as she can. She cleans up everything Sungjin didn’t manage to get before she arrived, staves off the bleeding, and bandages up Suhyun’s nose and lip.

“She’ll need stitches,” the nurse tells them once she’s finished, Suhyun gone off and distracted by Dowoon offering her building blocks. 

“Her brother’s coming to pick her up,” Sungjin replies, “we’ll let him know.”

The nurse nods and waves goodbye to Suhyun before she’s leaving. Sungjin spares a glance at the clock. His kids will be back from gym class in thirty minutes. He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Dowoon must notice Sungjin’s distress, as much as Sungjin’s trying not to be obvious. “C’mon, Suhyun,” he says, lifting the little girl up onto his shoulders. Her eyes are red from crying and her face is puffy from her wounds, but she still smiles bright when Dowoon carries her. “Let’s go wait for your brother in the office.”

Sungjin listens to their footsteps disappear down the long stretch of hallway, eyes trained on the floor. The carpet where his kids sit, threads pulled from wear, their tiny cubbies lined up beside it with their blankets and pillows for nap time. Through the walls Sungjin can hear the muffled noises from other classrooms, students and teachers alike, and it all seems to gather up in his temple and tries to pound it’s way out.

Sungjin perches on the edge of his desk, fingers rubbing against his temples, and tries not to fall apart.

Sungjin loves being a teacher. He would have never expected to end up here but he’s glad he did. He loves his kids, his job, his co-workers. So why does he feel so heavy-hearted and heavy-limbed today? Why can’t he just move along like he manages every other time?

Maybe today’s just his breaking point.

A timid knock rouses Sungjin from his own thoughts. When he lifts his head he finds Jae standing at the entrance of his classroom, looking a little sheepish but still radiating the warmth he always does. Sungjin smiles at Jae as best he can, but he’s not fooling anyone, and Jae doesn’t even need to be invited in to start crossing the distance between the door and Sungjin’s desk.

“How are you feeling?” Jae asks, voice quiet. He places a hand on the curve of Sungjin’s shoulder, fingers applying pressure against the fabric of Sungjin’s button-down. Sungjin can feel it through the fabric, proof of Jas’s warmth that radiates all inside him and around him.

“I’m - tired,” Sungjin admits, face falling along with the curve of his spine. “I’m really tired.”

“I heard about that mess with Suhyun, is she okay?” Sungjin nods. Jae takes a few moments to read Sungjin’s face and Sungjin must be projecting some ugly emotions, because Jae says, “that’s not it, is it?" 

Jae is, through and through, a people person. He understands people, he knows how to make himself understandable to people. He makes you want to open up to him, even when he half knows what’s wrong already. 

Sungjin is not immune to these qualities, so he shakes his head in agreement, and says, “I think one of my kids is dyslexic.”

It makes his heart hurt even more to say it out loud. 

“Oh,” Jae replies lamely, “I’m sorry. It’ll be okay, though, you can help them -” 

“That’s not,” Sungjin’s voice is shaking and he’s afraid he’s about to cry. He breathes slowly. “I don’t care that it’s going to be harder to teach them, I care that - when you tell parents that their kid has a learning disability,” Sungjin’s eyes are downcast, watching the distance between his feet and Jae’s. “Sometimes they act - they act like it’s the kids fault. Like they didn’t try hard enough or something and it’s - if a single one of my kids had to go through that this year, I would -” 

Sungjin can’t stop talking, can’t stop letting words tumble out of his mouth. “It makes me feel like a bad teacher,” he continues, “that I can’t protect them from things like that.”

“You’re not a bad teacher,” Jae cuts him off. Sungjin turns his gaze up to find Jae’s face, eyes steely and features determined. “You’re one of the best teachers I know. You love your kids so much, you’d do anything for them, and they love you so much back. You’re not a bad teacher.” 

Jae kisses him. Soft press of lips, soft press of noses, Jae’s hand on Sungjin’s face and Sungjin’s hands gripping the edge of his desk. It’s a moment, a moment that feels frozen, and then Sungjin lifts his hands to pull Jae closer and kiss him properly.

Sungjin lets out a breath of annoyance when Jae pulls away, but he doesn’t go far, stays right inside Sungjin’s personal space. “I can’t make out with you,” he says, “with all your animal stickers on the walls staring at us.”

Sungjin laughs, dropping his hands from Jae’s shoulders. He’s right, they shouldn’t even really been kissing, because that’s a definite no-no during school hours, and Sungjin’s not about to get fired because his crush is reciprocated.

Shit. His crush is reciprocated.

“Come over to my house tonight?” Sungjin says, emboldened by the realization. “I’m not a great cook but we can order something out.”

“That’s good,” Jae agrees, “I was feeling like gross food anyway.”

Jae leaves with a smile and the promise of tonight following behind him and the feel of him left off Sungjin’s lips. It’s strange almost, the way frustration begins to fall off Sungjin in waves, replaced by unfiltered excitement and happiness.

Jae must just have that effect on people.

 

#

 

Jae shows up a quarter to six, gone home for a moment to change his clothes, arms filled with takeout boxes from the noodle place down the street that Sungjin called in to order.

It’s a lot of food, probably too much for the two of them, but leftovers are fine. Sungjin might be overcompensating, unconsciously ordering more food so they can eat longer and Jae can stay longer.

They don’t kiss when Sungjin opens the door, partly because Sungjin doesn’t really know where boundaries start and end yet. Jae gives him a pretty good idea, though, when as soon as the door closes behind he gives Sungjin’s mouth a short kiss.

They sit next to each other on Sungjin’s couch and slurp noodles, which is really not the cutest food to eat on a first date, but Sungjin feels giddy all the same. It’s like it’s high school and he’s got a crush all over again, except he’s not just looking for a prom date and the crush is reciprocated this time and he’s an adult and he’s kind of looking for someone to build a future with.

Which sounds like a lot and very fast even when it really isn’t. Sungjin’s not looking to get married and adopt babies. There’s a such thing as looking into your immediate future and hoping you’ll see someone there. Sungjin wants to see Jae in his.

In the low light of the lamps of Sungjin’s couch corner tables with his eyes on the slopes and angles of Jae’s profile, Sungjin realizes he could have all of this. It’s being offered to him, hands outstretched with no hidden secrets. Because Jae wants him to have it, because he’s letting Sungjin have this.

Sungjin reaches out and takes it in the form of turning Jae to face him and kissing the sauce from noodles off of his face.

 

#

 

Things change. Not much and in a slow slide of establishing a want and it becoming a habit, but things do change. Sungjin has never found routine boring, or undesirable, and the way Jae becomes apart of his makes him so brightly happy.

They start carpooling to work together. Whether Sungjin stays overnight at Jae’s or vice versa or neither, Sungjin drives them both to work in his car. Which, for the record, they only use because it’s in much better shape than the one Jae has had since he was nineteen. Jae messes with the radio for five minutes every morning before he finds nothing and designates himself DJ of the twenty-minute drive. 

They start to memorize what they take in their coffees. Jae leaves a toothbrush in Sungjin’s bathroom and Sungjin leaves socks in Jae’s dresser drawers and they each buy the other’s favourite cereal.

Maybe Sungjin’s kids get better acquainted with the music teacher then any other class but no one says anything and the kids certainly don’t mind. Sungjin starts bringing his students to music class, leaving Dowoon to entertain himself in the class for five minutes (sometimes longer, if Sungjin gets distracted, but he’s trying not to make it a habit).

It’s a lot of little things. Little smiles and little changes in habits and little tweaks to routine. It’s not earth shattering, world altering, but sometimes things don’t have to be that to be good.

And lot of little things can come together to make something bigger.

**Author's Note:**

> me: i can't write this  
> chlo: but here's some ways you could write it
> 
> some loose ends:  
> 1\. Brian and Ayeon are together in this fic, they're just good at hiding it. Their also much happier in this universe then in my other one.  
> 2\. Dowoon and Wonpil are eventually A Thing. Suhyun accepts defeat over her brother in the quest for Dowoon's heart. There's a whole Dopil kid fic sequel I could be writing here but I can't (I mean it).


End file.
